


Sovara screams because she knows why the caged bird sings.

by rypitekoldan



Category: MS Paint Fan Adventures, Vast Error, vasterror
Genre: Other, Spoilers, act three, act3, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!, i have no idea what this is, i probably have sovara's character wrong, vast error spoilers, vasterror - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rypitekoldan/pseuds/rypitekoldan
Summary: Sovara's finally reached her land!! What will she decide to do?
Relationships: None
Kudos: 7





	Sovara screams because she knows why the caged bird sings.

**Author's Note:**

> Alriiiiiight so!!!! This story involves the recent vast error update so be warned before you read! This was just something I made, for, say, Metatron leaving Sovara to do what she wants to do in her land; and Sovara has a sudden breakdown, particularly remembering certain events (I did not write those events in detail, only hinted at them!). As I don't know too much Sovara lore or much about her character, due to the fact that she isn't exactly too popular within Vast Error, this could be completely wrecking Sovara's character; or be accurate to her character. This was something that I just had randomly in mind, so I decided to write it and I suppose I'm quite proud of it! And this was written in Google Docs, so I apologize if the formatting is off here.
> 
> Also, this isn't a fanfiction. I have written a Laipaz fanfiction for some of my friends, though I'm not sure if I will post that. I may indulge in more fanfiction writing later!
> 
> *You* are Sovara in this story. 
> 
> Here are the TWs/CWs:
> 
> Breakdown, hinting at flashbacks/trauma, nothing really positive about this story, crying. I think that's all!

You’ve always told yourself to watch out. To be cautious, to step forward and think for yourself. Every single day of what was yet to come, you’ve repeatedly told yourself this. But in the end, you hadn’t heeded your very own warnings.  
You don’t know exactly what has brought you up to this breakpoint, but whatever has; you despise it. And you feel like you’re on the verge of death, but you know you aren’t dying. Truly an experience, at best. You don’t know how to react, nor what to do to bring a swell impact upon yourself.  
And you especially don’t know what’s happening.  
Yet you have zero intent on finding out.  
All you can do is breakdown and cry. That’s exactly what you’re doing. That’s what you do every single time.  
This pain, this sudden blare of pain that’s set ablaze upon your mere heart; it’s unexpected, of course it’s unexpected, it’s always unexpected. It bites down onto your flesh every single time. It draws blood, it couldn’t give two single fucks about your wellbeing; this psychological impact it has, the mental damage that it’s inflicted upon to you repeats, it repeats over and over and it never seems to stop.  
You try to help yourself. You try to make it disappear. And when you think you’ve finally exterminated this horrific feeling, it comes right back out, and no matter how enormous or tiny it is, it always hurts.  
And every single time you remember.  
It can be fuzzy. Or it can be entirely visible.  
You hate it every single goddamn time.  
Why can’t you feel normal? You know what’s shaped you up to be this way. But something about this is off, something about this just isn’t right.  
This isn’t a part of the script.  
This isn’t the play that you wanted it to be.  
You’ve indulged yourself in one of your most favorite subjects; plays. Theatre. Drama. Whatever they call it. You enjoy plays, you’ve always had. The intensity of these plays, the dramatic scenes, the emotions that stem each and every which way from them, like a luminous glare reflecting yourself, your own emotion, your own pain. These plays have heavily impacted you, inspired you, grasped you and pulled you right back up to your miserable feet and have given you a kickstart to a new view on life. A start over, perhaps.  
Yet you ponder. If one had to start over, then they must’ve encountered a game over.  
What was your game over?  
You know exactly what it is.  
Though you tend to hide the fact that you do.  
Where did you mess up in the script? Everything was going according to plan, oh, it was so easy, to just follow in their footsteps, to leave the control to them and take the easy parts for yourself. Just how you… tolerated it.  
But there was just one part you never liked.  
You yearn control over yourself. Over your soul.  
It’s hardly difficult to blindly accompany your friends. To go along with what they say, to precisely use the knowledge they have given you to be, what you feel like, useful. That way, you wouldn’t interrupt anyone in the process and you wouldn’t screw up the game. That simple, really. All could end well.  
And how dare you think that you were fit for a challenge?  
You don’t understand. When will your true potential be sought, when will you finally feel free?  
When can you regain control?  
You know you want it. Though you don’t believe you’re up for it. You don’t think you can do it, you don’t think you can take back that control. You don’t think you’re strong enough for it, and you never have thought that way.  
So that’s where you are. You’re here, you’re alone, and you’re breaking down into clamorous sobs.  
You thought you could hold yourself together. Buuuut you couldn’t!  
You cry and cry and cry and cry. Nothing is stopping you.  
Your mind seems like it's hammering in on you, breaking into smithereens and bits of pieces, falling apart at the second. Your vision is at a soft grey blur, encasing your surroundings into a slight dimness.  
Your heart is pounding, burning up within you, sending sickening warm feelings tearing throughout your limbs and your upper body area. The flare is cruel, and feels inescapable.  
You don’t know why you’ve chosen this day to be the day you reach your breaking point again.  
Well, you’re not too sure if you got a choice in this.  
Metatron is gone. After your talk with him, he had left it up for you to decide what you wanted to do.  
Of course, you could always try to somehow signal for him to come over and request assistance; but you’re not in the current state to do that. Nor do you want his help; you want a chance to prove yourself, you want a chance to deal with this yourself and to do something about it.  
Though you can’t even bring yourself to mutter out a couple of words. It’s all coherent, with the special help of your wails.  
Your written out plays that you showed Metatron are all scattered about.  
You decide that you don’t want your hard work to be ruined.  
So you heave yourself upon your feet. Your whole entire movement process is staggered, and you can feel your immense shaking practically rattle your bones.  
You can feel your tears roll down your cheeks, submerging into your shirt, dripping onto the floor carelessly. Despite all this, you continue to sob, your voice beginning to fade, becoming nothing but a shrill shriek occupied by your tears. Your cries are barely audible, but it’s not like there’s anyone nearby to tune in on you.  
But you must carry on. You’ve dealt with this before, haven’t you?  
Most of the time, you can bear this feeling. You can lock it away, you can try to ignore it; and usually, it works.  
Usually.  
And because you’ve finally left your lusus, you’ve left your hive behind, and you don’t have too much of a clue of where to start, you had this unexpected breakdown.  
Which is quite reasonable.  
Yet in the midst of it, you had flashbacks. Dire flashbacks.  
The color red isn’t that suitable to your eyes.  
And the faint chirping that whisks away, whispering into your ears, brings a formidable force upon you.  
You want to start working on yourself. For the game. For your friends  
And you decide to do just that.  
What will you start with?  
You have so many places to go; your land is quite extravagant, offering a variety of areas to explore.  
You don’t know what you’ll start with, but you know that you will get somewhere.


End file.
